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Authors: Catherine Airlie

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BOOK: The Last of the Kintyres
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Yet she could not thrust herself into his life. She still remembered with a deep sense of hurt that he had never wanted them to
come to Ardlamond in the first place.

Hew stood looking down at the papers for a long time without saying anything, waiting, perhaps, for Tony to put in an appearance, and she sat down in the chair he had pulled forward for her, wondering how long it was going to take him to tell her to go back to London.

Thinking that she might make it easier for him, she said:

“I know we must be—something of an embarrassment to you, Hew, but I don’t want you to go on feeling responsible for us. I’m twenty
-t
wo,” she added firmly. “Old enough to cope with Tony and look after myself.”

He looked round at her with the faintest of smiles in his grey-green eyes.

“I wouldn’t be at all surprised at that,” he said. “You didn’t exactly knuckle under when we met in London, but I still think you might need help, at least where Tony is concerned.”

“I can cope,” she hastened to assure him. “Tony and I are quite attached to one another. It’s just that—he may have been a little bit spoiled in the past. He’ll grow out of it.”

“I dare say,” he conceded slowly, lifting a long, buff
-
coloured envelope from the desk. “But the fact remains that he will be twenty-one in less than two years’ time, and then he comes into quite a considerable amount of money which has been accumulating since your grandmother died. It was this fact,” he added firmly, “which worried your mother towards the end of her life. She knew that Tony needed guidance and that my father would help in that respect.”

“Yes.” Elizabeth looked down at her clasped hands. “It was such a relief to her to know that there was someone like Sir Ronald in the background. I never really knew your father,” she hurried on, “but these past few days I’ve felt that we could have been friends.” She paused, thinking of the old man who had lived such a full and active life here at Ardlamond and who could have helped Tony so much by example. “I’m sure Tony would have benefited by his friendship, but it just wasn’t to be.” She looked up, meeting his eyes fully. “We’re quite ready to go,” she told him.

“That won’t be necessary.” He came round the end of the desk but passed her to cross to the fire. “With the title of laird, I have taken on all my father’s commitments, and Tony is now my ward.”

“Oh—!”

The unexpectedness of his blunt statement brought Elizabeth to her feet. She was sure that he could not want to accept such a responsibility.

“Whether you like it or not,” he said, “I’m afraid Tony must remain answerable to me for the next eighteen months. After that,” he shrugged, “he can do as he pleases.”

She could not read his expression, and his tone had told her nothing of his true feelings either.

“You can’t possibly want us here,” she repeated, and had to wait what seemed an endless moment for his answer.

“Whether I want you or not is beside the point,” he told her slowly. “What does matter is that Tony has been put in my charge and I mean to see that nothing goes wrong. If he is reasonable about the situation we should be able to work happily enough together, but if he should need some sort of curb I shall not hesitate to apply it.”

There had been firm determination in his voice and she knew that he meant what he said. She imagined that he could be quite ruthless if occasion
demanded it.

“I suppose I can’t argue against such a decision,” she told him. “I do agree with you that Tony could be happy enough here.”

“We must find him some work to do,” he said thoughtfully. “He tells me that he is not really keen on a university career.”

“No, I don’t think he is.” For the first time Elizabeth was
thinking
about her own position, about having to part from her brother.

Hew gave her an odd, calculating look.

“What is he interested in,” he asked, “apart from fast cars?”

Elizabeth flushed at the implication.

“He has always loved trees,” she said, “if that’s any help.”

“Forestry?” he considered. “That sounds promising enough. We shall have to see how he shapes in that direction.”

Elizabeth bit her lip, not knowing what to say to him. Gradually Tony and the future seemed to be slipping away from her and she felt oddly, inexplicably alone. She would return to London and look for a job, and all the time her thoughts would be here at Ardlamond with Tony and Hew Kintyre.

“I suppose that’s everything finally decided,” she said aloud. “I’m grateful, of course—”

“But not absolutely sure that it will work?” he suggested. “The ideal thing would be for you to stay and see.”

“I couldn’t!” she protested, without looking at
him,
in case he might see the desire in her eyes. She wanted to stay with all her heart. “I couldn’t
infli
ct a double burden on you.”

He came to stand quite close to her.

“You told me five minutes ago that you were a most competent person,” he reminded her. “That, in fact, you were more than able to look after yourself. What I am asking you to do is stay here and help to look after your brother.”

Her wide eyes met his with all her relief and joy mirrored in their grey depths.

“You mean that you really think I could help?” she asked.

“I would not have asked you otherwise,” he informed her briefly.

“I see.” She had been snubbed for her impetuosity, but she could not feel completely deflated. “This will be wonderful for Tony and me,” she confessed. “We’ve never been parted for any length of time. We were a very closely-knit family.” She paused, reminding herself that her family history could scarcely interest him, and then added impulsively, “This may seem an intrusion on my part, Hew, but if I could possibly help you with the estate affairs—the paper work, I mean—I’d love to do it. I’ve been a secretary for three years,” she stumbled on when he did not interrupt her, “and I know about these things.”

He looked past her at the confusion on the desk, dismissing it with an impatient gesture which she thought quite typical.

“I
think
it might be just as well if you confined your help to the domestic side,” he assured her firmly. “I can no doubt cope with this in my spare time.”

“Yes,” she agreed, wondering where he was going to find such a commodity if he had already been working flat out at Whitefarland, as Mrs. Malcolm had suggested. “I’ll do what I can, Hew, and I’ll keep an eye on Tony. He shouldn’t really prove difficult.”

His
red brows went up, but he did not contradict her openly. Instead he followed her out into the hall where they met Jessie Malcolm coming through from the kitchens with the supper dishes.

It was almost more than Elizabeth dared do to glance at the old grandfather clock which stood near the foot of the staircase, and then, shrilly, demandingly, the telephone bell rang, its sound piercing the silence between them.

Hew went to the alcove and lifted the receiver. A woman’s rather shrill voice came through in a few distorted sentences, to which he made brief reply.

“I see. Where are they?” He waited for a split second, listening again, and his face was suddenly harder, more set and determined as he added: “A
ll
right, I’ll get over there as quickly as I can.”

He rang off, pausing a moment as if to draw breath. His back was towards Elizabeth, but she knew that this was something he had to tell her about. When he turned she said:

“Is it—Tony?”

He came towards her, leading her by the elbow back across the hall to the fireplace where she could sit down, if she wished.

“I want you to take this as calmly as possible, Elizabeth,” he said, his own voice firm, his eyes level and commanding on hers. “There’s been an accident. Tony and Carol—in that ridiculous car of hers.”

When she glanced and stiffened in his grasp, his fingers tightened on her arm.

“I don’t think it’s anything very serious,” he said for her immediate comfort, “but they are some distance away.”

“Can we get there?” Elizabeth pleaded. “Oh, Hew, I’m so sorry, but—but I have to get to him—”

“Of course,” he said without any change of expression. “We must both go.”

“This is so dreadful for you—happening today, when you have had so much to do.” She gripped her hands tightly together. “Why
did
they have to go off like that?” she exclaimed.

“That’s beside the point,” he answered briefly. “What is important is that we get there before the police begin to ask too many questions.”

“The police?” She stared at him, wide-eyed. “Is there someone else involved—some other car?”

“No, I think not. It would appear that they just went off the road. The Cadillac is a very fast car.”

He released her arm and she turned in search of her coat.

“How far is it?” she asked.

“About fifty miles.”

“I thought they might have gone to the Castle,” she suggested nervously.

“That would have been too simple.”

He went past her towards the door and she saw how taut his jaw was and the angry little gleam at the back of his eyes. Yet, over and above these things, there was anxiety. There could be no doubt about that, and suddenly Elizabeth was saying:

“Hew—is it Caroline? Has she been seriously hurt?”

“I don’t think so.” A small pulse leapt to life beneath his temple and throbbed there for a moment. “I don’t think either of them was seriously injured, although Tony appears to have a slight concussion. The point is,” he added grimly, “that we must get them back here as quickly as possible.”

Elizabeth went to get her coat. Of course, he was worried about Caroline and trying not to show it. If he was in love with her he would be worried. And he would be terribly angry with Tony.

She tried not to sympathize with her brother or lay the full blame for this unfortunate episode at Caroline’s door because she was three years older than Tony. Tony should not have gone off as he had done especially without saying anything about their intentions.

And now it was late and getting dark, and Hew had already been through a long, trying day.

By the time Elizabeth came back downstairs he had explained the situation to Mrs. Malcolm.

“I’ll keep the supper hot,” she promised. “You’ll be needing it after a long run like that.”

“You’d better go to bed, Jessie,” Hew said kindly. “It may be well after midnight by the time we get back.”

“I’ll wait up, all the same,” was Jessie’s firm rejoinder. “Anything could have happened.”

Y
es, indeed, anything could have happened, Elizabeth thought with a fastly-beating heart as she followed Hew out to the stabling which now provided adequate garage accommodation. The Land-Rover which he used at Whitefarland was parked outside the doors, but he went past it to take the car which his father had driven for many years. It was an old Daimler, still fast and reliable, and very much more comfortable than the Land-Rover, and she knew that the choice had been a concession to her comfort.

“If you’d rather take the Land-Rover, Hew,” she offered, “I don’t really mind. It doesn’t matter how we travel as long as we get there quickly.”

He opened the door of the Daimler without turning. “Get in,” he said almost brusquely. “We may need the extra room to bring them back.”

They drove in silence for the first few miles over the winding shore road and inland along a narrow sea-loch where tall pines came down to the water’s edge, making a silence and a darkness that could almost be felt. The sun had set long ago and the magic gloaming hour was past. It was cold and bleak-looking among the hills and the mountains ahead of them stood out harshly black against a greying, starless sky.

They ran though Oban, already settled and still for the night, crouched round the silver basin of the harbour, with the guardian arches of McCaig’s Folly standing starkly on the hill above it. On past ruined Dunollie gazing westwards over a shadowed loch, as if for ever watching for the return of a former glory; on to Connel and beyond, where the giant mountains of the north came crowding down like vengeful giants rushing towards the sea. They seemed to hold a menace and a threat that was direct and personal, and Elizabeth shivered as she looked at them.

“Cold?” Hew asked.

“No. If anything, it’s warm in the car.”

She could not convey her fear to him, yet he seemed to sense it, for he said:

“If they had been really seriously injured they would have been taken back to Oban. I’ve a good idea where they have been. It’s a favourite haunt of Caroline’s.” His mouth was thin with anger. “She ought to have known these roads—how dangerous they can be,” he added tightly.

The road they were on was no more than a single track, winding and twisting into oblivion among these frowning ramparts of the world. Black mountains were everywhere, drawn closer by the night, and the Daimler’s stabbing headlights only served to accentuate the sable shadows which hovered threateningly on every side.

Soon they had come to another loch, remote and distant from all human habitation, it would seem, but before they had gone very far along its winding, white
-
sanded shore Hew turned the car abruptly and they drove smoothly along a dark avenue flanked by towering Douglas firs.

BOOK: The Last of the Kintyres
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